


once upon a time we burned bright

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Dancing, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Recovery, Slow Dancing, cuties in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:31:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Care to dance?" He breathes, and Bucky looks up, eyes somewhat confused and tired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	once upon a time we burned bright

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally written about a couple sentences every other day so i apologize if it's choppy or whatever :-)

Steve wasn't a total loser before the war. Of course, Bucky proved that wrong by taking too many sips of the whiskey and chuckling quietly before offering Steve his hand.   
Of course Steve couldn't dance, not really. But Bucky had insisted and swayed his hips lightly before leading Steve to the window, grasping his hand tightly.   
Bucky was tall and lean, pulling Steve up against his body nicely.   
He was warm and comforting, just a bit of Brooklyn attached to the way he spoke and the way he moved his feet and just, danced. He was graceful and light, despite being bigger than Steve, he managed to be so much more delicate than Steve could imagine.   
And Steve on the other hand was a walking disaster with two left feet who slipped enough for Bucky to probably get frustrated and grab his bottle of whiskey.   
But he didn't and instead, laughed, throwing his head back and just, laughed.  
Steve had smiled a little, squirming a bit before ushering Bucky towards the couch, and helping him lay. Not an easy task but he'd managed, frowning at the rips and the couple of springs that had torn through the couch cover.   
"Enough for you." He'd mumbled, thumb grazing Bucky's jaw before pushing him over gently and curling up within his arms.   
It's easy to say he's a much better dancer now.   
Steve tries not to dwell back on those memories, the ones right before war because when he looks over to Bucky, who's fast asleep, he realizes it's painful. Especially when Bucky still hasn't fully recovered and a part of him still doesn't understand who Steve is.   
Steve gets up from the chair he's sitting on, throwing the blanket off of himself before shuffling over to Bucky's bed.   
He spends a lot of time in Bucky's room, especially at night. Just to watch over and make sure Bucky is asleep and safe.   
"Bucky?" He murmurs, gently prodding Bucky's arm.   
There's a muffled groan and then, all of a sudden, Bucky shoots up, eyes wide. Wisps of brown hair slip from his loose bun and into his eyes.   
There's a visible note of relaxation when he sees Steve and Bucky shuts his eyes briefly, sighing.   
"Steve?"   
Steve hesitates, wondering if this could ever help Bucky and if not, just make him happy. But before he can talk himself out of it and usher Bucky back to sleep, Steve reaches out, palm open and just slightly shaking.   
"Care to dance?" He breathes, and Bucky looks up, eyes somewhat confused and tired.   
"Wha— I don't know how to dance." Bucky replies shortly, furrowing his eyebrows.   
But Steve shakes his head, hand reaching forward and taking Bucky's from his lap, fingers entwining.   
"I'll show you." Steve gestures over to the large panel window on the other wall before helping a sleepy Bucky out of the covers and towards the window.   
A steady stream of moonlight hits the floor and when Steve manages to pull Bucky into it, he, too, glistens with hazy light.   
Steve puts his other hand on Bucky's hip, fingers immediately aching to tug his thin t shirt up and feel his skin.   
Instead, he clears his throat and grasps Bucky's other hand with his more firmly and then steps back, just a bit to the left.   
"Move to the right." He says, pulling Bucky towards him just a little.   
It proves to be rash because Bucky clearly isn't expecting it, still lost in his sleep daze and ends up stumbling forward and stepping on Steve's left foot.   
He winces and then shakes it off, determined.   
"Try again." Steve keeps his voice even and slow as he steps back and leads Bucky with him.   
But again, Bucky falters, foot moving in the wrong way and he ends up on the opposite of Steve, arm twisted slightly.   
At this point, Bucky huffs, clearly struggling.   
"I can't do this, please, Steve." He says sharply, trying to loosen Steve's grip on him. Instead, Steve shakes his head and shrugs, "we can try again."   
Steve isn't a particularly patient person, even he's realized that by now.   
But Bucky looks a little lost, a bit confused as he shakes his head but gets back into position.   
By now, his eyes aren't glazed over but his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration.   
"Okay, so, step back?" He asks, fingers digging into the palm of Steve's hand.   
Steve nods, lips stretching over his teeth into a slight smile when Bucky moves back and lets Steve take control.   
It's still a bit rough but it's Bucky's first dance since the war.   
They keep moving, clumsy and rough at first but soon, Bucky's movements become slower.   
More dainty.   
Just like he used to dance.   
Steve's heart swells with pride and unexplainable emotion and just love.   
It overwhelms him and he staggers back just a bit because slowly, slowly his best friend, his lover is coming back to him. Not really. Bucky will never really be Bucky again. But he's dancing just like himself and that's more than enough for Steve.   
Steve sways his hips slightly, moving forward and catching Bucky off guard. He's unable to process the movement that Steve's made so Steve clutches onto Bucky's waist tighter, holding on.   
"I gotcha." He murmurs into Bucky's ears, voice filled with haze and raw emotion, the kind of emotion that promises love and happiness. Promises Steve is determined to keep.  
Bucky breathes out, gently against Steve's collar and nods, the shake of his head indicating everything.   
He trusts Steve.   
He trusts Steve to catch him when he falls.   
So Steve moves back and Bucky moves with him, slow and languid.   
The moonlight is pale and stark against their skin, creating a colour which can't separate Steve from Bucky and Bucky from Steve.   
Bucky looks up, chin tipping back and all of a sudden, Steve lets his hand go and cups his jaw.   
His fingers prickle against the sparse stubble and he brushes his thumb over Bucky's temple soothingly.   
"I—" Bucky's voice is hoarse, tired.   
Steve only shakes his head, pulling Bucky closer.   
"I know." He interrupts, "I know, Buck."   
The room chills, wind wafting through the small crack on the window.   
Bucky presses himself closer to Steve, a feeble attempt to suck in the warmth that comes from Steve's body, the heat that radiates from him is blissful.  
"C'mon, lets get you to bed." Steve says softly, crouching down and swooping Bucky into his arms, even though the bed is literally ten feet away and Bucky is more than capable of walking on his own.   
He doesn't seem to mind, though, and instead only clutches Steve's shirt tightly.   
Steve lays Bucky on his bed, covering his body with the blanket and making sure that he's comfortable.   
Bucky is in a state of comfort, sleepy and slow so, what he would normally be more than capable of handling, Steve takes care of for him.   
And Steve always will take care of Bucky.   
Bucky spent years with Steve, hurtling himself through the rainy, bleak streets of Brooklyn to find Steve's medicines.   
It was Bucky who spent his nights by Steve's bed and spent his morning by the docks.   
It was Bucky who ran off to the war, leaving Steve safe and secure in Brooklyn.   
It was Bucky, but now it will be Steve.   
Steve stumbles back onto the chair where he always sits during the night and tugs the fleece throw over himself again.   
The chair digs into his back and it's kind of uncomfortable but Steve only sighs.   
If he goes back to his room, then he can't watch over Bucky and make sure he's okay.  
"Steve?" Bucky's voice is groggy.   
Steve sits up, "yeah?" He yawns.   
"Will you..." Bucky pauses, going quiet before speaking again, "will you hold me?"   
There's a quiver in Bucky's voice.  
He sounds unsure.   
Like he's scared to ask this of Steve.   
Steve just nods.   
Right now, that's what Bucky needs. To be held and to be held tightly and securely.   
And Steve will offer him just that.   
Steve slips in behind Bucky, against his body as he pulls the covers over them.   
Bucky's always been colder than Steve, though he was healthier, and Steve's been the one who's always been a radiator of heat.   
Steve nuzzles into Bucky's hair, knees settling into the backs of Bucky's knees with one arm slung loosely over Bucky's hip.   
"Good?" He murmurs into Bucky's hair, settling against the pillow with a peaceful sigh.   
The warmth between the two of them is light and heavenly, nothing compared to the coolness of the chair.   
There's a small nod from Bucky, which satisfies Steve's protective side.  
Sleep crawls beneath the blanket and settles into Steve's bones and he sighs again, shutting his eyes. The darkness is welcomed into his body, Steve feels his body slowly crumble to the sedation and comfort of being near Bucky and resting.  
"Good." Steve mumbles, kissing the top of Bucky's head and letting the sleep take him.


End file.
